


forever and owlways

by earlgrey_milktea



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AUs, BokuAka Week, Established Relationship, First Meetings, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, barely skirting the prompts with these ridiculously elaborate aus, gay volleyowls what more could you want, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:37:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6472102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>my contribution to bokuaka week.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. library/dating site

**Author's Note:**

> of course i'm jumping at the opportunity to contribute to my fave owls!! even if it's hell week for me!!
> 
> i always write these in the middle of the night, please alert me of any weird typos/grammatical errors. thanks for reading (:
> 
> sorry not sorry for the title  
> happy bokuaka day, everyone~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> library / ~~dating site~~

There’s someone in Keiji’s spot.

Well, technically, it’s not  _ Keiji’s _ spot, since it’s a seat in the corner of the university library, but he’s been sitting there every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon since the beginning of the semester and nobody else has ever occupied it during that time, so naturally Keiji has dubbed it  _ his _ spot in his mind.

Except, right now, on this almost sunny Thursday afternoon half-way through the semester, his seat is taken.

He frowns, staring at the spiked up silver-and-black hair, the bouncing knees and the tapping fingers and the dirty, worn out backpack on the floor next to the armchair. He’s never seen this person before. He would have remembered, with that ridiculous hair. They don’t seem to be moving anytime soon.

If Keiji is more awake and not operating on his fifth cup of coffee today, he might march right over and demand his seat back. However rude and illogical that might be. But he was never one for unnecessary confrontation. Maybe it’s just a fluke, a weird schedule mashup. Maybe the guy’s class got cancelled. Keiji doesn’t have time for this.

Keiji sighs, casting one last disgruntled glance at his occupied seat before turning to go find another place to finish his essay.

 

A week later, the guy is still there.

Keiji is annoyed. He settles on the desks a few shelves over, peering over the top of his textbook to study the guy that keeps stealing his spot. His hair is as ridiculous as ever, defying gravity with an uncanny allusion to owls. He seems to have set up camp in that particular corner, his ratty backpack strewn by his feet, a pile of notebooks stacked precariously on the table, laptop and calculator balanced across his lap, and sporting the most obnoxious neon yellow headphones Keiji has ever laid eyes on. He’s a little amazed how Owl Head manages to wear the headphones, what with his hair and all.

What holds Keiji’s attention the most, for some reason, is the look of intense concentration the guy wears. His tongue would stick out in one corner, his brow furrowed as he glares down at whatever assignment he’s tackling. His eyes would practically burn a hole through his laptop. He has bright, gold eyes, Keiji notices. Strange colour. But it’s not like Keiji can say anything, with his own dark green eyes that seems to grow darker depending on his mood. 

Maybe the guy has a midterm coming up. Keiji allows him to use his spot for now, because he isn’t completely heartless, and Owl Head seems to take his work seriously, at least. Keiji can do without his spot for a couple days.

 

Two weeks later, Keiji’s spot is  _ still  _ taken by the same guy.

By now, he’s very done with this disturbance in his routine. Keiji has Had Enough. He adjusts the straps on his bag, lifting his chin, and marches right over to Owl Head.

“Excuse me,” he says politely, waiting until golden eyes tear themselves away from the calculator to meet his gaze. “You’re in my spot.”

The guy blinks. His hands reach up to take off his headphones as he glances around them. “Your spot? Oh, you mean, you want this seat? Sorry, I thought no one was sitting here, and I really liked the sun you get in this spot, also the armchairs are very comfy, I didn’t realize it’s your spot!”

Keiji’s a little taken aback by the guy’s openness. He shuffles his feet a little. “Well, it’s. It’s not like it has my name on it. I’ve just been sitting here at this time since the beginning of the school year, but lately you seem to always... claim it first.”  _ And I’ve never seen you in the library before,  _ he doesn’t add.

“Oh... Ah, I used to do my studying in my dorm,” the guy tells him, scratching the back of his head. “But lately my roommate keeps bringing his girlfriend over, so I thought I might as well give them the space, you know? And it’s so nice in the library. Also, apparently I get to meet good-looking people.” The guy beams up at him, completely unembarrassed and innocent.

Keiji can feel his cheeks heating up. He clears his throat. “Um. So, are you going to be taking this spot for the rest of the semester?”

“Oh, well, if you want to, we can share? There’s two armchairs, and I can move my notebooks off the table.” The guy grins at him, and the expression is so bright, such a contrast from the face of utmost concentration that Keiji is used to, he has to shake himself to focus back on what the guy is saying. His smile is just as intense as his concentrating expression. “I could use the company.”

Keiji doesn’t know how to respond. Whatever he expected when he decided to confront this guy, it sure wasn’t this.

Taking Keiji’s silence as an answer, the guy’s smile fades. “I-If you don’t want that, it’s fine, I’m just, I mean, I’ve noticed you around the library since I started coming here and I-I just thought that you looked very pretty---I mean, interesting, I mean---I want to get to know you better---Or I can just leave. I should probably leave.” He starts to shove his notebooks into his backpack, the tips of his ears turning a brilliant shade of red.

Before Keiji can think it through, he’s reaching out and stopping the boy from packing up. When bright golden eyes are trained back on his face, he glances away. He can feel himself blushing, but neither of them comment on it. “You can stay,” he mumbles. “I’ll take the other armchair.”

A radiant smile blooms across the other boy’s face. “Bokuto Koutarou!” he suddenly says, a little too loudly. He waves at the people that look over at his noise. “I’m a second year engineering student!”

“Akaashi Keiji, first year psychology. Nice to meet you, Bokuto-san.”

“You don’t need to use the honorific, Akaashi! But nice to meet you, too.” Bokuto gestures for Keiji to sit down, already bombarding him with questions about psychology and is that his major, why did he choose psychology, is it fun.

Keiji, for whatever reason, finds himself answering each question, even managing to ask some back, and be genuinely interested in the answers. He still thinks Bokuto’s hair is ridiculous, and his personality is as loud as his appearance is, but Keiji thinks he doesn’t mind it. 

And if, by the time they leave the library, Keiji agrees when Bokuto asks if he wants to join him for dinner, well. Keiji really doesn’t mind if his spot becomes  _ their  _ spot from now on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i realize i'm always writing these two in the library. oops.


	2. pets/celebrity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pets + celebrity  
> (kind of both)

Keiji is editing his latest article when a sudden loud yapping noise cut through the music from his headphones. He looks down to find a dog running between his legs.

“Where did you come from?” he murmurs, pulling his headphones off and leaning down to pet the excitable little dog. The dog makes several more squeaky yips, looking particularly pleased when Keiji pets the spot behind its head.

“Fuku! Fuku, what are you doing!”

Keiji looks up to find a man jogging towards them, looking a bit frantic but not out of breath. An athlete, hm. Keiji’s trained eyes quickly pick out the comfortable sneakers, the workout sweats, the muscles on those arms that definitely do not come from casual recreational activity. Those are some exceptionally strong arms, actually.

“Ah, sorry, is she bothering you?”

Keiji shakes his head. “Fuku’s cute.”

“Yeah, I know!” The man grins, his teeth flashing as he bends down to put a leash back on the dog. “Got her over a year ago, and even though she likes to run, she’s still the most adorable thing ever.”

Keiji hums. He studies the man curiously. He looks faintly familiar, what with that two-toned hair standing straight up in a particular way, though his large shades are in the way. Keiji wonders why he’s wearing shades when there are heavy clouds overhead.

“Oh, ah, do you mind doing me a favour?”

“Sorry?”

The man grins again, a bit sheepishly. He glances behind Keiji at the coffeeshop. “Do you mind going in there and buying me a medium americano?”

Keiji looks at him. “And you can’t get it yourself because...”

The man scratches his head. “I’m afraid people will recognize me.”

“Oh?” Keiji tilts his head. “Are you famous?”

“Shhh!” The man lifts the dog into his arms, glancing around cautiously. “I’m only telling you this because I think you look very nice---nice, like trustworthy, but also, like, just objectively and aesthetically, actually---anyway, but yeah. I’m... actually sort of a celebrity.” The man’s voice has dropped to a whisper, as if he’s indulging Keiji in a big secret.

“Really,” says Keiji. “I don’t recognize you.”

The man huffs, taking off his shades to reveal bright, golden eyes. “That’s ‘cause of my awesome disguise!”

“I don’t think sunglasses count as much of a disguise.”

“You still don’t know who I am?”

Keiji pauses to scan his face. “One of those mob characters on some tv drama?”

The man looks offended. “No! I’m Bokuto Koutarou! You really don’t know who I am?”

“I think you’ll be fine in the coffeeshop, sir.”

“No, please.” Bokuto turns slightly so both the dog and he are giving Keiji puppy-dog eyes. “Please buy me a coffee...”

Keiji squints. “I really think you don’t need to worry.”

“W-well...” Bokuto stammers slightly, looking down at his dog. Even his hair seems to droop. “I can’t leave Fuku here...”

“Fuku’s an interesting name for a dog,” comments Keiji. He watches with mild amazement at how fast Bokuto brightens again.

“I was going to name her Fukuro, because I love owls,” Bokuto tells him, his eyes lighting up like a child with candy, “I was originally going to get a pet owl, actually, but my manager said that’s a bad idea, so I got her instead, and Fukuro seems a bit long, but she took to Fuku right away, and it also means luck, because she’s brought me lots of luck so far!”

“A good luck charm, hm?”

“Yes!” Bokuto smiles down at Fuku, and then up at Keiji. “She led me to you, after all.”

Keiji blinks. “How is that lucky?”

Bokuto seems to realize what he says, and glances away, his ears turning red. “I just, uh. You looked very elegant sitting here, writing. And you smiled at Fuku all nice-like, and uh. I’d really like to buy you a cup of coffee, um...”

“Akaashi,” Keiji supplies. Bokuto has a nice blushing face.

“Akaashi-san.” Bokuto pauses. “Well, you could buy the coffee and I can wait here?”

Keiji can’t stop the amused smile twitching across his lips. Something about this man makes him want to laugh, but in a good way. It’s strange, because usually Keiji hates people interrupting his work. He pushes himself up. 

“Alright, Bokuto-san. On one condition. Would you mind signing my notebook?”

“Y-You just said you didn’t know who I was!”

Keiji smiles at him. “I’m a sports journalist, Bokuto-san. Of course I know who you are, National-Volleyball-Champion-san.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. i don't know much about dogs except they're fluffy and made of sunshine  
> 2\. i don't know much about famous sports players  
> 3\. or sports journalists  
> 4\. i googled the meanings of "fuku"/"fukuro"


	3. confessions / internet famous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~~confessions~~ / internet famous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> future fic of sorts, established relationship

Bokuto looks up at the sound of a shutter. He smiles, raising his hands slightly to the camera in Akaashi’s hands.

“What are you doing,” he laughs.

Akaashi dodges Bokuto’s half-hearted attempts of grabbing his camera, snapping more pictures of Bokuto. “The afternoon sunlight looks good on you.”

“That’s so embarrassing, Akaashi.”

“Says the one that asked me to move in with you using owl puns.”

“Hey, Konoha was the one that came up with the idea!”

“Pretty sure he was joking.”

Bokuto pouts, crossing his arms. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

Akaashi lowers the camera, smiling at the other. “It did.”

They sit next to each other on their tiny balcony, Bokuto hacking away at his essays, Akaashi fiddling with his camera and laptop. The weather has been looking up recently, and so has their schedule. Since they’re both in different programs, sometimes it’s hard to match up their days, what with Bokuto being on the volleyball team and Akaashi interning at a local magazine. It’s really nice that they’re both cohabiting the same apartment, so they at least see each other at night. But only seeing each other at night takes a toll on both of them, so when they can, they opt to just sit in each other’s company.

“Hey, Akaashi?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

Bokuto twirls the pen in his hands, staring out into the cityscape while he muses over what to say. “Do you ever wish you... that you chose somewhere else?”

Akaashi furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just... You’re really good at your photography, you know? I saw your name in the newspapers again yesterday, and your work is posted on our school website and...” Bokuto tilts his head to catch Akaashi’s eye. “Sometimes I feel like I’m holding you back.”

There’s a pause where Akaashi lets that sink in. He blinks, not looking away from the other. But Bokuto doesn’t seem upset, like he’s beating himself up for something that’s not even his fault, which he’s sometimes prone to do when Akaashi isn’t paying enough attention. Today, however, he seems genuinely curious, even calm. Akaashi breathes out slowly.

“No,” he answers. “At the beginning, I did think about how it’d be like to go to school in Paris, or New York, but... I like it here. It’s familiar, and their program is actually really interesting. And I’m gaining real experience at my internship, which might be more than what studying abroad might be able to offer. Besides,” he smiles slightly, raising his camera again. “You’re here.”

A smile blooms across Bokuto’s face. He allows Akaashi to take a few more pictures of him basking in the soft glow of the setting sun. Then he reaches out, and carefully plucks the camera from Akaashi’s fingers.

Bokuto leans over, one hand steadying the camera, the other sliding through Akaashi’s curls until it rests at the nape of his neck. Akaashi meets him halfway, kissing him softly under the cloudless sky. People on the street might see them, but to them, at that moment, they are the only two people in the world.

“Akaashi! Come here.” Bokuto squishes their cheeks together, aiming the camera lens at their grinning, slightly flushed faces. “Selfie time!”

Akaashi allows him to snap a few selfies, before his impatience gets the better of him. He tugs the camera out of the other’s hands, placing it carefully on the table, before sliding his hands into Bokuto’s hair. He stands on his tiptoes, kissing Bokuto again, but this time with more force. Bokuto responds just as enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around Akaashi’s waist.

They stumble back into the apartment, laughing between kisses, somehow making their way into the bedroom before falling down completely.

 

 

 

When Bokuto wakes, it’s dark outside. He squints through the darkness at the buzzing on the nightstand, the source of what woke him up.

“Akaashi, you have so many notifications!”

There’s a groan from the lump under the blankets.

“It’s from your instagram, wait you have a instagram?”

A softer groan.

“Wow, you post a lot of your pictures, huh? They’re really good, look at how many comments----hoHOHOHOLY SHIT, AKAASHI.”

A disgruntled groan this time, and some shuffling from the blanket lump.

“You have so many followers! What the heck, Akaashi, how come you never told me you have this many followers? You’re like, you’re like... Instagram famous!”

There’s a huffing sound, and then the blankets are pulled down to reveal a groggy Akaashi, messy-haired and squinty-eyed, but so beautiful to Bokuto, always so beautiful. “I’m Instagram famous, Bokuto-san. Come back to bed.”

“Wait, this most recent post is one of the selfies I took this afternoon! Aw, look, it turned out so great, you’re smiling! You’re so cute, Akaashi, oh my gods, look how many likes this has, does this mean _I’m_ Instagram famous, too----”

Akaashi groans again, even as he reaches out and physically drags Bokuto back into his sleep-warm cocoon with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao does this even count as fulfilling the prompt


	4. training camp arc/magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~~training camp arc~~ / magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're kids in this au

_Your moods are dangerous, Koutarou. It’s your Gift, but it affects everyone around you, remember that. When you’re feeling good, it’s fine, but when you’re feeling bad, hide._

_Your moods are dangerous, Koutarou._

Koutarou has spent his whole life hearing those words. At first, he didn’t really understand, but after the first few times he accidentally slipped into his moods around the other kids, he doesn’t need any more explanation.

On its own, his Gift is pretty harmless. It can be used to make everyone feel good, especially when they’re restless and upset. It helps people focus, motivates them, clears away their hesitation. Koutarou never hated his Gift, because it helps people. It can help people.

Unfortunately, Koutarou isn’t the best at controlling his Gift. He’s not the only one, what with all the other kids often accidentally shooting sparks from their fingertips or growing vines and flowers from the ground. But somehow, his losing control of his Gift is more dangerous than anything else.

If Koutarou is happy, everyone around him is happy. This is the best mode to operate in, Koutarou finds, because if everyone is happy, things go easier and the teachers are more willing to allow everyone to have a second recess. Koutarou likes happy. Happy means smiles, means laughter, means games, means warm feelings.

But Koutarou isn’t always happy. Sometimes he slips and falls into ugly, dark feelings. And this is reflected in everybody else around him. Angry means there are yelling and Gifts being used in a terrible way, an intentionally harmful way. Sad means there are crying and no one is listening. Koutarou hates when he is upset, because it means that he is causing everyone else around him to be upset. In that sense, his Gift is more like a curse.

He’s tried being happy all the time, but it’s hard. Always smiling doesn’t work when your Gift doesn’t look at outer appearances. No matter how much he forces himself to laugh or how loud he tries to be, his insecurities and fear and frustration is always betrayed by the affected actions of everyone around him.

So Koutarou has learned to run and hide when he is upset. The farther away, the better. That way he can keep his own terrible emotions to himself. That way he won’t hurt anybody.

 

 

 

On a sunny afternoon, Koutarou is hiding from everybody again.

There’s a spot at the edge of the forest he discovered a while ago, and he fits right in the crooks of the ancient trees there. No one can find him there, so he’ll just wait until he’s calm enough to go back home.

He’s trying to quiet his sobs when a rustling noise catches his attention. Peeking out of the bushes, he scans the area for any wild animals. His Gift doesn’t work on animals, but he’s still good enough with them that he can convince them not to hurt him, he hopes.

Except it’s not an animal. It’s a small human boy, smaller than Koutarou himself. He has a headful of messy black curls and the palest skin Koutarou has ever seen. Koutarou stares, gaping as the boy stops right in front of his hiding spot.

The boy crouches down, meeting his eyes. “What are you doing here all by yourself?”

“You shouldn’t be here!” shouts Koutarou, shrinking back against the tree. “You should stay away from me! I’m dangerous!”

The boy doesn’t move. “If you’re sad, you shouldn’t be sad by yourself.”

Koutarou peeks up at him, catching his gaze. The boy’s expression hasn’t changed from its impassivity, but those dark eyes watch him with a gentleness Koutarou didn’t know could be directed at him.

“You’re Bokuto-san, right?”

Hesitantly, Koutarou nods. He slowly unscrunches himself from the tree as the other boy sits down next to him. Despite himself, he’s curious. Usually no one approaches him without him bugging them first, and especially not when he’s like this. But the boy doesn’t hesitate, even when his elbow brushes against Koutarou’s arm. Skin-on-skin contact usually amplifies Gifts.

“I’m Akaashi. Akaashi Keiji. I’m in the year below yours.”

Koutarou is half-entranced by the way the other boy’s dark eyes seem to shift shades when the sunlight moves over them. “Akaashi,” he repeats, unaware that he’s said it out loud. He shakes his head. “Akaashi, you should go. Before I hurt you.”

“Why would you hurt me?”

“B-Because...” Koutarou frowns. “Because my Gift. I... I make others feel bad, when I feel bad. I cause bad things to happen.”

Akaashi tilts his head. “You’re feeling bad right now?”

“Yes. Really, horribly bad, like the kind of bad when there’s a storm and the tide is rising and hitting the rocks and it’s all scary... And that’s why you shouldn’t be around me!”

“But I’m not feeling bad at all, Bokuto-san.”

Koutarou looks at the other boy from between his fingers. “You’re not?”

Akaashi shakes his head.

“My Gift doesn’t affect you?”

Another shake of the head.

By now, Koutarou isn’t crying anymore, and the bad feelings have faded a bit. Still, it’s strange how Akaashi doesn’t seem to reflect any of the negative emotions Koutarou is feeling. He lowers his hand, staring curiously at Akaashi.

“Ne, Akaashi, what’s your Gift, then?”

Akaashi blinks at him. Then, for the first time since he sat down, he glances away from Koutarou. His voice is quiet when he says, “I don’t have one.”

“What? You don’t have a Gift? How is that possible?”

Akaashi lifts a shoulder in an almost-shrug. He’s still looking into the distance, but there’s not much of a change in his serene expression. “I’ve never had one. Maybe that’s why your Gift doesn’t work on me.”

“That’s so strange! But like, in a good way! I’ve never met anybody without a Gift, so you’re really cool! Will you be my friend?”

A small smile grows on Akaashi’s face. “If I’m your friend, will you promise me you won’t go and be sad by yourself?”

Koutarou considers this. Then he nods, because the prospect of making friends with this pretty, gentle boy is much more enticing than the self-imposed rules he had to keep people from being hurt by him. “I promise! Let’s pinky swear!”

A small pinky entwines with his own, and there in his forest hiding spot, Koutarou of the mood shifter makes a friend in Akaashi, the boy without a Gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> akaashi does have a gift, he just hasn't awakened it/doesn't know how to use it yet
> 
> sorry if it felt a bit rushed halfway through, i'm like barely survived hell week but i really like this au so it got kind of long and awkwardly rambly


	5. last match/red string of fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~~last match~~ / red string of fate

Koutarou first notices it when he’s seven, reaching up to catch the ball and being distracted by the spot of colour following his left hand.

The ball bounces off his head, but he doesn’t even acknowledge it. He’s too busy staring at his pinky, where there’s a piece of string tied to it. He doesn’t remember tying it, and his mother is always rubbing his face and bemoaning the fact that he can’t stay clean for more than five minutes. It’s yellow, like the dandelions in the park. He likes the colour, he decides.

He makes it home safely somehow, despite being distracted by the pretty string on his pinky. When his mother asks him if he had fun, he proudly holds up his hand. “Look, kaa-chan! It’s like a ring!”

“What are you talking about, Koutarou?”

“On my pinky! There’s a string! See?”

His mother looks at him quizzically. “I don’t see anything, Koutarou.”

“But it’s right there? Look closer, kaa-chan!”

His mother looks, but shakes her head. She kneels down in front of him before he can frown at her inability to see just how pretty the string is. “You know, Koutarou, you might be seeing your string of fate.”

“String of fate...?”

“There’s an old legend where everyone has a red string tied to their finger, and if you follow it, it will lead to your fated lover.”

“Fated lover?”

“Yes. There’s a girl out there with that has the same string tied to her pinky. It’s called the red string of fate.”

Koutarou stares up at her with his mouth open. That’s the coolest thing he has ever heard. It’s so cute! There’s someone out there for him! He can’t see where the string leads (he tried following it for a bit before he came home) but it’s sort of reassuring to know it leads to the person that he will spend forever and ever with. 

It’s not until he’s going to sleep that night that he remembers that his mother said ‘the red string of fate.’ But his string isn’t red. 

It’s yellow. 

 

 

 

He doesn’t think about it very often. 

It never fades from his sight, but it doesn't really bother him otherwise. The string seems to ignore everything else, allow him to shower and move and change clothes without ever tangling himself or hurting his finger. No one else can ever see it. 

Sometimes he toys with it, when he’s feeling nervous, when he’s by himself, when he’s trying to figure out the answer to an algebra function. It’s loose enough for him to wrap it twice around his right hand’s index finger. Sometimes he tugs on it, to see if maybe it might reach whoever’s on the other end of the string. But there’s never any response, and no matter how much he pulls at it, it’s always never-ending, loose enough to lead off from his bedroom floor down the hall and out the front door, down the street until he can’t see anymore. 

He’s tried to follow it a number of times, even dragged his friends into his wild goose chase, but it never leads anywhere. At one point, he wondered if whoever placed the string there in the first place was just playing a huge prank on him, and there’s nobody there at the other end of the string. At another point, he tried cutting it off because he’s afraid there really  _ is  _ somebody on the other end of the string, and they won’t want him once they see who he is. Or what if  _ he  _ doesn’t want  _ them _ ? What if the way they want each other isn’t the same? 

He doesn’t understand the rules of this string of fate, and at this point he wonders if he ever will. 

So he doesn’t think about it.

 

 

 

He’s in high school when he feels the string tug a little. 

Excitedly, he drops the volleyball in his hands to look down at his string, but it doesn’t react any further. 

“Bokuto? What are you doing?”

“The string! It moved!”

“Oh, your invisible fate string or whatever?” Konoha picks up the ball Koutarou dropped.

“Does this mean your soulmate is getting close or something?” Komi beams beside Koutarou.

None of his friends have ever seen the string, but they believe him regardless. Or maybe they don’t, but they let him talk about it, even helped him research for any yellow strings of fate, to no avail. Koutarou’s still unable to figure out why it’s yellow, if maybe whoever placed it there was colourblind and messed up. Sarukui thinks maybe the legend has the colour wrong this whole time, Komi thinks it’s because Koutarou’s favourite colour is yellow, Konoha thinks maybe the different colours mean maybe it’s not a lover he’s connected to, and Washio thinks he should just wait to see what the fates have planned for him and they should all stop speculating and get back to practice.

The string doesn’t move for the rest of his first year, but Koutarou never stops glancing at it. He’s never been so conscious of the yellow string since he was a child. It’s annoying, feeling his hopes rise again, but also exciting. He starts fantasizing again about who is on the other side of the string, whether they like yellow, or if they’re into volleyball, or if they like owls, or if they’re thinking of him, too.

Whoever it is, he thinks, he hopes they can be friends.

 

 

 

His second year of high school, he wakes up with his string vibrating against his skin. He bolts upright, letting out a shout. 

“Koutarou? What’s wrong?”

“Kaa-chan! My string, it’s---it’s moving!”

She smiles at him. “Maybe you’ll meet your soulmate today.”

He beams.

Throughout the day, he keeps an eye on his string. It slows its movement, but he’s noticed it become tauter. He tries to follow it during lunch, but a teacher tells him to go back to class when the bell rings. It’s hard to sit still when it’s possible his soulmate is  _ right there _ , somewhere close.

He trudges to volleyball practice when the string stops moving altogether. It leads off down the stairs to the lower-level classrooms, but the opposite direction from the gym. He tries not to cry.

“Who died, Bokuto?”

“I think my string’s broken,” he says, spiking the ball across the court half-heartedly.

“I don’t think it works like that,” Konoha tells him, patting his back. Koutarou doesn’t feel any better.

Then the captain is calling everyone to one end of the gym to introduce themselves to the first years. Koutarou is retrieving a volleyball when he notices a tugging on his left hand. The string is pulling at him, lifting off the ground like he’s never seen it before. Koutarou drops the ball.

Slowly, with his heart pounding, he follows the string across the gym, past the crowd of Fukurodani Volleyball Club members. It seems to grow more taut and shorter as he goes, and finally he’s standing between Komi and Sarukui, eyes trailing from his pinky towards the first years, finding the other end tied neatly to the slender pinky of a pale-skinned first year, staring back at him with wide, dark eyes.

“I’ve found you,” Koutarou whispered.

Akaashi Keiji, year 1 class 5, aspiring setter of the Fukurodani volleyball team, smiles back at him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got more invested in this au than i should, and i plan to continue this one-shot (maybe into a 3-act thing??) after all this is done!!
> 
> also lmao does this still count considering it's not actually a red string


	6. graduation/reincarnation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~~graduation~~ / reincarnation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i confess i got a little too invested in this au again so this is technically just the first part of a longer elaboration i'll post soon after this because why the frick have i never done a reincarnation fic before
> 
>  **warnings:** mAJOR CHARA DEATH, mentions of blood

It all starts many, many years ago.

Back when the roads were more like trodden paths and the trees ruled the land, when humans lived in peace with the earth, gods walked the lands amongst the mortals without fear. They don’t always reveal themselves, but nonetheless the mortals knew they were there. And, like all legends go, they worshipped the gods. They built shrines, temples, dedicated their livelihoods to appease the gods only few of them were lucky enough to see. They prayed, and the gods answered. It was harmony.

You were one of those gods, once upon a time. 

The shrine they gave you was small, but it was always kept in good condition. You brought good fortune for those that show up every morning to pray diligently, you took care of them and made sure they stay healthy and safe. Your powers weren’t anything to be sung about, but the land responded to you well enough, and you could roam about as you pleased. Most often, you took the form of an owl, able to watch over your subjects from afar.

You’d lost track of how many years it’s been since you settled down to bless this small village, but you’ll never forget the first time you ever laid eyes on him.

He’s smaller than all the other kids in the village, but had a voice louder than any of them. He seemed to wear a smile like it’s a permanent part of him, his hair wild and unable to be brushed down, but despite his loud appearance, it’s his eyes that caught your attention. They’re wide, round, and breathtakingly gold. You’d never seen anything more bright, more full of life. Inexplicably, you were drawn to him like birds were to the sky.

They called him the village idiot, because he knew only how to laugh and could never stay still for more than a few minutes. They called him hopeless, because his body would never grow to be strong like the other children, because coughs rattled his scrawny frame at night, because his parents weren’t there to pray for him. 

That didn’t stop you from following him as he explored the forests by himself during the day. You approached him in your owl form, and he welcomed you with a warmth you never knew as a god, distant and jaded from time. He wasn’t very good at keeping track of his one-sided conversation, prone to being distracted by butterflies and coughing fits, but you reveled in his company like you’d never done before. You’d never met a human whose soul shone as brightly as this; he seemed to glow faintly, and you’d think he was a spiritual being of some sort if you didn’t know better.

Until one morning, you stepped out from your shrine to find your favourite light dashed, shattered, silenced. 

An offering, the humans said, because the sun had shone too long and their crops had remained empty. An offering, the humans said, shielding their eyes from the bloodied dagger and the dark splatters across the courtyard floor. An offering, the humans said, kneeling before the lifeless body of a boy who would never have lived past his teen years but had no way of defending himself against the harsh intentions of the entire village. An offering, the humans said, and you wept for the first time since you woke up with prayers in your ear and blessings in your hand.

That night, you turned into an owl for the last time, and flew and flew until your wings grew tired and the moonlight welcomed you home. You kneeled before the silver-haired god and his crow companion, touching your forehead to the floor.

“I wish to be reincarnated,” you said, raising your eyes until you meet hazel ones, calm with ages and ages of wisdom, “as a human.”

The god considered you with kindness in his eyes. “You might end up like Oikawa, you know?”

You nodded, having heard of your fellow immortal friend that gave up his godhood to follow a dark-haired warrior that stole his heart some centuries ago. You hadn’t heard from him since, though rumours said he was still searching, life after life after life, for his warrior. 

“Your memories will be erased with every cycle,” the god before you said, rising from his throne. The crow lifted from his shoulder, circling your head. “Your powers, of course, will be gone forever. He won’t remember anything, either. There’s nothing I can do to make sure you find each other, only promise that the cycles don’t end until you reach a lifetime where you find him at the right time, the right circumstances.” He gave you a soft smile, his eyes still so impossibly kind you almost wanted to cry again. “Good luck, Keiji.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, before the crow landed on your head and a swirl of snow blinded you.


	7. anniversary/future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~~anniversary~~ / future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is v short and v silly but hey, i sure hope the future looks as bright as this  
> also this is basically based on what i wrote for my last crwr assignment haha
> 
> mentioned/implied homophobia

It’s been ten years now, which is an awfully long time to be with someone, but to Keiji it feels like just yesterday when they were just two dumb teenagers blushing way too much around each other, holding hands for the first time as they walk home together.

Now they’re both adults, with jobs of their own and a place to call home. He gets to come home every day to someone answering  _ okaeri!  _ with the warmest, most familiar smile. He wakes up with the feeling of somebody else’s warmth pressing against his bare skin, he wakes up to the sleepy smile of his most favourite person in the world. 

Ten years ago, he never would have thought it possible, to be able to find someone that loves him as much as he loves them, to be able to have so much happiness with someone. But here he is, and even if there were hardships in between, he wouldn’t trade it for the world. 

There were a couple years when he finally came out to his parents and they fell out of touch with him and Koutarou. Those were hard. Keiji has always been close to his parents, but they were deeply rooted in their traditions. But he had Koutarou with him throughout the frigid silence, and when they eventually came around, Koutarou stayed. 

Koutarou always stayed. 

Even when his boss threatened to fire him because they found out his relationship with Keiji and he ended up quitting himself because he couldn’t “deal with such bullshit.” Even when they had to move apartments because the lady next door couldn’t keep her rude comments to herself. Even when the rest of the world seemed to be against them and people like them, Koutarou stayed. And Keiji loves him for it.

So when the news finally comes, Keiji drops the potato in his hands, gaping at the tv. The news channel continues to repeat the same news story over and over, showing live footage of the government buildings, of people’s reactions on the internet, on the streets. Keiji doesn’t know how long he stands there, mouth open and tears prickling at the edge of his eyes. 

He comes back to himself when the door slams closed and loud footsteps come pounding down the hall. 

“Keiji! Keiji, have you heard---you must have---did you see---they finally---Keiji---!”

Keiji turns in time to be engulfed by strong, familiar arms, squeezing him tight. He reciprocates without hesitation, and soon they’re both sobbing right there in the middle of the kitchen. There’s no such thing as close enough, when finally, after all these years of hiding and frustration and fear of one of them getting hurt because the hospital would never recognize them as family when the law is like this, was like this. Finally, after all these years, it’s happening.

“Koutarou,” gasps Keiji, kissing him on the mouth, on his cheek, his eyelids, anywhere he can reach. “I love you, I love you so, so much---”

“I love you, too,” Koutarou says back, his grin so wide it’s like staring into the sun. He pulls back, his hands sliding down until they capture Keiji’s own. He looks into Keiji’s eyes, and there are shiny tears at the edge of his eyes, which Keiji knows are reflected in his own.

“Akaashi Keiji,” whispers Koutarou, squeezing his hands. He dips down onto his knee, staring up at Keiji with pure, unadulterated happiness on his face. Keiji doesn’t let go of his hands, but he’s laughing helplessly now, tears falling freely, as Koutarou says, “Akaashi Keiji. Will you do me the favour of marrying me, forever and owlways, eternally and unconditionally,  _ legally _ ...?”

“Yes,  _ yes _ , gods, of course yes, Koutarou---”

Dinner is left uncooked and the tv left repeating the breaking news as the two lovers make their way to the bedroom to really celebrate the good news. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for reading, commenting, kudo-ing, squealing with me about these two owls again.  
> i hope you continue to look forward to what i have in store for these two (starting with the AUs i got too invested in lmao).  
> thanks again, it's been a great bokuaka week (:

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @ puddingcatbae  
> twitter @ puddingcatbae


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